


slowly, we unfurl

by rain_at_dawn



Category: SHINee
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Magical Realism, Mild descriptions of illness, Past Relationship(s), Pining, non-celebrity AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 19:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21184721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_at_dawn/pseuds/rain_at_dawn
Summary: A stroke of bad luck forces Jonghyun to come to terms with his feelings for Jinki.





	1. i-xv

**Author's Note:**

> fic title taken from [lotus flower by radiohead](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cfOa1a8hYP8)

_October 1_

On very early mornings, Jonghyun wonders if there’s a remedy for the ache in his chest.

It’s 4:03 and still dark enough to pretend that it’s too late for a cure, except for the glass of water that would quench his parched throat. The floorboards underneath his feet are cool and solid as he makes the short journey from the bedroom to kitchen, imagining that the wall that separates his apartment from the one next door is a bridge to the real source of his affliction.

He’s tried to note its symptoms, to make sense of the words as they appear on paper, just falling short of betraying the name locked in his heart.

Still, he lets himself down as he leans against the one wall in his bedroom that surely borders Jinki’s. Behind it, he imagines the other lies fast asleep and unaware, tucked safely in his dreams. All Jonghyun now pleads from the darkness that surrounds them both is a reprieve.

_‘Please stop.’_ He attempts to reason with his heart.

It listens.

It only listens.

* * *

_October 2_

It turns out that a violet-eyed black cat is the first ill omen of the day.

“Some countries call them harbingers of bad luck, you know.” Jonghyun says this in an attempt to divert Minho’s attention to something other than Shim Changmin. “Let’s get outta here.”

It doesn’t work. Minho’s big stupid grin remains undimmed, even under the dreary late afternoon clouds. The sunlight falls filtered through the greyness and Jonghyun finds the patches of dirty gold that land on the communal garden located in the atrium of the apartment complex unsettling. The bowl of ramyun he’d had for lunch feels like cement in his belly.

“So I’m going to tell hyung on the fifteenth.” Minho’s voice seemed to echo slightly; maybe it’s because the garden is near-empty, except for Kyungsoo pottering about the pumpkin patch which he and Yoona had started a few weeks prior. And still, there’s the cat and its unblinking stare. Jonghyun is determined not to let his nerves show as he swallows and looks away, back at the sun hidden behind its glum blanket of clouds.

“Hyung, you’re not listening to me.” Minho’s glaring at him now, across from the few inches that separate him from Jonghyun on the bench. “I’m serious, you know how important this is to me.”

“You don’t have to tell me. Not many people schedule a specific time and date to confess to their crush.”

This, of course, does nothing to dispel Minho’s frown. “I _told _you it’s because Changmin hyung’s back from Japan on the thirteenth. He’ll obviously be tired after traveling, so that’s why I’m allowing a day to pass before meeting up with him.”

Jonghyun won’t argue further; Minho only listens to reason and there’s not an ounce of superstition that’s going to leave him in awe of a black cat suddenly appearing out of the ether in the pumpkin patch. ‘Changmin hyung this, Changmin hyung that’ has become something of a familiar refrain throughout the years in which Jonghyun has known Minho, from the time Minho’s brother had been tutored in high school by the tall, handsome senior next door, right through to Minho ending up being mentored by same senior in college for his degree in Commerce. Even after all this time, it’s a precocious crush. Jonghyun’s never had the heart to shatter that illusion for Minho.

But then again – as he watches the cat slink back into the shadows after Kyungsoo approaches it with an outstretched hand – Jonghyun admires his friend’s initiative. Confession is a step that’s long seemed insurmountable to him.

The sound of a steady footfall carries as the wind picks up. Jonghyun looks at the open walkway across from where he and Minho sit, and as always, finds his gaze easily settling on the smooth, soft lines of Jinki’s profile as he walks past them, work satchel slung across his shoulder and a canvas grocery bag clasped in the opposite hand. He glances in Jonghyun’s direction and nods, both a hello and goodbye, as he makes his way to the lifts. Jinki’s hair has grown since summer; the loose brown ends seem to float in the breeze, an image which Jonghyun immediately snaps in a blink and stores in the collection of his memory.

Jinki turns around the corner and Jonghyun already feels emptier.

None of this has gone unobserved by Minho.

“You should really go talk to him.”

“I do talk to him.” Jonghyun irritably protests. “Whenever I can.”

And he loved talking to Jinki; whenever Minho was working late, it was Jinki who joined him outside in the garden with two mugs of tea freshly brewed in his own kitchen and a smile that warmed Jonghyun from the tips of his ears to the ends of his toes. In the two years since Jinki had moved in with his boyfriend, Changsun, Jonghyun had learnt that his birthday was on December 14, his parents lived in Gwangmyeong, he still owned an antique vinyl record player which once belonged to his grandfather, he loved fried chicken, he could crack the coldest puns and Jonghyun would still find it adorable. 

An encounter at the music store two blocks away later taught him that Jinki loved the classics: Lee Moonse, Kim Gunmo, Shin Seunghun, a little bit of Buzz, some Nell when he drank enough during a noraebang. The one time Jonghyun overheard him humming the chorus of K.Will’s ‘Please don’t’, his heart almost jumped clean out of his chest.

Some time along the way, he’d had to learn to let his feelings settle. Let nothing but silence float to the surface of whatever rose inside him whenever Jinki smiled, leaving the deeper, darker thoughts to swirl around his head throughout the rest of the night as he lay in bed, imagining how his heartbeat would feel if it were nestled beneath the warm curve of Jinki’s palm. It would eventually sink down, through his throat and lungs, erupting throughout the remainder of his dreams.

In-between nights, Jonghyun would date a number of girls; the very few boys who caught his eye lasted well into dawn until he let them slip away, untethered to a name or number that would end up deleted from his mobile contacts. He would give Jinki lifts through and from work, occasionally to the theatre whenever Changsun had a show running.

They would sometimes laugh about things aside from puns. Jonghyun’s poor unsuspecting puppy and her antics caught on his phone camera were the most convenient on the drives after the end of Jinki’s work-day at a large publishing house, the chief joke being how despite the rotation of women in Jonghyun’s love life, Kim Byulroo had yet to be dethroned from her place in his heart.

“So, say she’s your princess,” Jinki had once shouted across from his seat, on a stiflingly hot day on the road last summer, as they drove with the windows down, hair mauled by the breeze. “Is there room for…”

The rest of it had been cut off by a bus roaring past them as the driver switched lanes, but Jonghyun knew what Jinki was getting at.

_‘A man? Is it Prince Charming you’re waiting on?’_

He’d pretended to gag at the wheel.

“Changsun’s already taken.” Jonghyun had pouted in Jinki’s direction for emphasis. “Lemme know if he has a friend, won’t you?”

Jinki had tossed his head back, eyes crinkled and a chuckle rattling its way out from behind the hand on his mouth. Jonghyun knew it wasn’t a promise.

* * *

_October 3_

It’s been a few months since Jonghyun had a woman over at his place; he doesn’t count that one time his sister had dropped by with their mother’s freshly prepared kimchi and a bundle of questions about his well-being. Jonghyun hadn’t known how to answer any of them, nor had he the wherewithal to complain when he noted the absence of laughter next door.

It’s not unusual. It shouldn’t be, after all this time that Jinki and Changsun had to settle into their space and into… each other. There’s something nastily voyeuristic about these little mental invasions that just happen upon Jonghyun’s headspace in these small pockets of silence he has to himself, undoing everything he’s steeled his heart against.

But if he recalls correctly, the scene is missing one thing of note.

Music.

When Jinki had first arrived at the apartment block, equipped with a battered suitcase and an array of cardboard boxes, smile intact nonetheless as he held onto Changsun after tripping over the front steps, the first impressions that had been set in Jonghyun’s head were the soft, sweet thrum of the vintage record player as it played ‘On The Street’. Then came the voice; low and clear enough to be heard over the music, sweet and sure as Jinki’s first greeting to him had been the next morning.

Music turned out to be the one thing they shared in common, though Jonghyun would agree that their tastes mostly veered on the opposite sides of the track. Still, Jinki lent a willing ear to Jonghyun’s Wheesung CDs and Maxwell vinyls, some of which made their way across the wall and enmeshed into his nightly routine. He would listen to Jinki’s attempts at falsetto and pay attention to the exact part where it cracked with laughter, perfectly in tune with Changsun’s voice echoing the same mirth.

This was how it must feel to miss something that won’t ever leave. Jonghyun would think about it over his radio show track-list, mulling over it more than he knew was right. He would picture two figures in a living-room, curved around each other as they embraced, fingers interlinked and locked in a clasp. He would imagine it, and brood over it, and imagine why he was brooding over it, when it never had anything to do with him in the first place.

But when the music stops, Jonghyun doesn’t know what else to think of, or who else.

It must’ve been around the time he’d restarted his guitar compositions that he really noticed the gaps between the album skips. Jinki always liked turning up his music around the same time that Jonghyun left for work; it always felt like a send-off. When the first night arrived without it, Jonghyun knew he’d taken something for granted.

The change seemed to coincide with the longer hours Jinki began to put in at work, so Jonghyun assumed he was too tired to put his usual records on when he returned home. Maybe it was Changsun that drove Jinki around now and their laughter was only contained inside the shell of Changsun’s car instead. Maybe they listened to the guide tracks for whatever musical Changsun was preparing for, instead of Jonghyun’s RnB playlists. He’d just have to get used to seeing Jinki at intervals. Or maybe, not at all.

The last thought is the one that weighs most on him. It fell into the type of thinking that either drove him to the studio or the bottle. At times like four in the morning, both of these were woefully inadequate to purge his head of everything his heart latched onto.

It’s a time where he almost brushes off the scratching at his door; it might have been an urban night goblin for all he cared and he would’ve still been too bogged down in his own fugue to ogle at it. But the scratching continues. He could have sworn he heard a mewl.

Grumbling, he gets up and makes to open the door, fully intending to shoo away the unwelcome visitor. He grips the handle, the lock turns, and it swings open out into the empty corridor, nothing but the deep black night sky facing him above the mid-length wall which overlooks the garden two stories below. Perched on the wall is the cat, perfectly poised with its violet-eyed stare bearing down on him.

He’s rooted to the spot as it bounds nimbly to land before him, to the patch of floor beneath his feet. It bows its shadowy head with a purr and places something held in its mouth that stands out against the grey concrete before it slithers away to be submerged by the rest of the surrounding darkness.

Jonghyun almost misses the piece of paper; it’s the gleaming inky letters in perfect brush strokes on the little rectangle card that first catch his eye:

_Lock & Key Apothecary_

_Potions and Powders for every need. Every want. Every desire._

* * *

_October 4_

“Changsun moved out.”

Taeyeon’s broken the news at the worst possible time, on the 7.30 morning train to the heart of Seoul while both herself and Jonghyun are armed with shopping bags crammed with black crepe paper and handmade Halloween crafts. In any case, Jonghyun’s not the one who’s suffered thumb cramps from cutting out paper skulls the whole of last night. He’s not going to test her patience further by dropping the bags alongside his jaw.

“When?” He tries to ask as outwardly calmly as possible; the single word gets swallowed by the screech of the train doors opening to let in more commuters. Taeyeon’s frown deepens as the crowd thickens. She’s never been fond of the subway; Jonghyun swiftly shepherds her into an emptier corner so she can have her breathing space, making the best use of the bulky bags to clear the way.

After the doors slide shut, he turns to her with a grin which he hopes is reassuring. “Okay, noona, you can breathe out now.”

Taeyeon slumps back against the window, but immediately looks up at him with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

Outside, the sun trails along as they fly over roads and low-level apartment blocks. In fifteen minutes, they’ll reach their destination and have to rush again.

“So, noona, you were saying?”

“What?”

“Changsun?”

“Oh yeah. It must be about a month since he left the apartment, I think? My sister’s an understudy for the play he’s in right now and apparently, she says he’s been renting a room near the theatre while he looks for a new place.”

It’s now Jonghyun’s stomach’s turn to drop. A month felt like seconds ago in the rush of work that had filled his days; at nights, weeks passed like years. Either way, it had slipped by him completely.

“He’s still your neighbor, isn’t he?” Taeyeon peers up at him, curiously. “Changsun’s ex?”

_Jinki._

_Ex._

“Yes.” He finds himself murmuring, almost to himself, the thoughts coming out hazy. “He’s mine.”

The handle of someone’s umbrella accidentally pokes him from behind.

“He’s still my neighbor.”

* * *

_October 5_

Jonghyun hasn’t had much time to dwell on recent events the day before. After dropping off Taeyeon and her decorations at the bookstore she co-owned with a friend from high school, he was roped into staying back to help stick the plastic spiders and cobwebs into place, as well as give an impromptu feedback session on Yeri the part-timer’s latest composition. A few hours later, a text from Minho inviting him to lunch resulted in a largely one-sided conversation about Manchester United and Changmin hyung over sandwiches and coffees.

“Just tell him and get it over with already, if you can’t keep it in.” Jonghyun had whined.

But Minho had huffed and said, “You don’t seem to get the value of perfect timing.”

It’s turned into a phrase that haunts him: perfect timing.

A whole month and he hadn’t picked up on a single fucking sign. He’s now spent the better part of today turning over each detail of each day he’d missed, each of which centers around Jinki.

Jonghyun’s right down in the garden, pondering over the pumpkin patch, when he looks up at the apartment. Jinki and Changsun’s apartment; now just Jinki.

Jinki and Jinki alone.

And here comes Jinki, back from another day of work to return to an empty apartment, work satchel slung across his shoulder and a canvas grocery bag clasped in the opposite hand. His gaze meets Jonghyun’s and he nods, both a hello and goodbye. Jonghyun nods back, silently cursing himself for not paying heed to these gaps. A while later, he can’t stand the sound of his own head and makes his way up to his own empty apartment.

Except he does have Roo, if no one else. Jinki doesn’t.

As night falls, Jonghyun can’t bear the idea of taking his own music to task on a weekend where nothing but silence lies behind Jinki’s walls. It just doesn’t feel right somehow. If Jinki has to cope with the emptiness left behind, Jonghyun’s not sure if he has any right to pour his own soul into it.

He lies awake instead. He watches the sky outside his window for a sign, listens for any noise outside his door for the same.

He hopes Jinki’s doing the opposite; lost in sleep, instead of his own memories. Jonghyun keeps his eyes on the clouds, wishing for a star to fall, just so he has a chance to grant that one wish for his neighbor.

* * *

_October 6_

While scrambling through a drawer full of old receipts and bills, he happens upon the strange business card again: _Lock & Key Apothecary_, a name straight out of a run-of-the-mill fantasy novel.

It has to be a joke. 

* * *

_October 7_

Jinki’s out in the garden for a change, seated on the bench, on the side usually taken by Minho. To be fair, it _had_ been Jinki’s side before it became Minho’s, Jonghyun reasons with himself. It’s nothing worth stirring himself up into a panic over. It’s nothing, no, it’s something, isn’t it? Shouldn’t it be?

Roo doesn’t feel the difference; she’s always felt comfortable around Jinki and nothing’s going to stop her from padding ahead of Jonghyun to greet his familiar worn-out work shoes with a gregarious sniff. It’s the perfect ice-breaker; Jinki’s smiling already and Jonghyun can tell it’s real from the way Roo wags her tail in delight as the spot behind her ears is stroked.

Then Jinki raises his head and their eyes really meet for the first time in weeks.

Jonghyun doesn’t have the heart to bring it up.

* * *

_October 8_

The violet eyed cat has been a fixture in the pumpkin patch since the sun began to descend behind the line of buildings across from the courtyard. Jonghyun has long since given up on the battle of wills and quietly surrenders to its searching stare as the shadows around them lengthen, twisting and turning into caricatures of their owners.

When he looks up again, it’s drawn closer. It’s a sinewy creature, lean muscles rippling beneath silken fur with each measured step it takes. A harbinger of bad luck in some countries. Jonghyun can’t remember if Korea is one of them.

“What do you want?” He asks, half in jest, half suspicious, his hand reaching for its paw like he would with Roo. “What do I owe you?”

It pauses mid-stride. Slowly, it relaxes its hind legs and draws the rest of itself up in a sitting position; its gaze softens, in what could be mistaken for an expression of confusion. Or –

“Curiosity?”

Jonghyun relaxes, keeping his chuckle to himself. “Isn’t that bad for cats?”

A long, slow blink from the cat. And then the corners of its mouth stretch out across its face, the flash of stark white teeth distinct.

It’s smiling, Jonghyun realizes. A chill runs through him and he withdraws his hand.

The creature doesn’t seem to take offense. It bows its head; the gesture takes him back to the night he’d heard it scratching at his door. Last time he remembered, the card was still lying in the mess of his bedside desk drawer, probably never to see the light of day.

Its head rises, the eyes trained straight on him.

An impulse flits beneath the skin on the back of his hand, making the bones underneath it twitch. Jonghyun already knows what he’s reaching for when his fingers dive through his left pocket; there’s the card, slid inside, a feather-light presence between his trembling thumb and index finger.

It’s already stepping away, satisfied with its demonstration. In no time at all, it’s a shadow he watches melt before his eyes, an occurrence so startling it’s knocked the breath right out of him.

* * *

_October 9_

The Lock & Key Apothecary is located in a quiet part of town, one that could be considered dull by most standards. It’s part of a short line of one-story buildings, all of which seem to house only the most functional of businesses: a printing service, a typing and translation office, a laundromat, an upholsterer, a carpenter’s workshop and an optometrist’s clinic. The place Jonghyun’s looking for is situated between the printers and the typing office; the fifth store he stops in front of.

He wonders what else compelled him to finally make the journey to the address on the card. At least it hadn’t turned out to be a long, cumbersome one. As for the endpoint, he’s not sure what else makes it stand out from the rest of the sleepy neighborhood. Just to reinforce his point, he steps back from the storefront to take it in as a whole.

The signboard that announces its name is made to resemble a large blackboard, over which the letters flow in clear white script. Not the most practical choice, but Jonghyun appreciates the sensibility. Or lack of it.

The store itself isn’t large, or so it appears from the outside. Behind its large window is a neatly arranged pyramid of glass mason jars, the bottom-most layer filled with a dusky orange powder of sorts. The layers above it contain substances of varying consistencies, the colors lightening from the base orange to a pale peach at the very top. Jonghyun supposes the display is purely for the autumnal effect. He likes it.

He stretches on tiptoe to see if he can catch a glimpse of the indoors behind the mason jars, but apart from the warm glow of a few lanterns placed on a few shelves, there’s very little he can discern. It seems that there was really only one way to find out

The door is conveniently located right next to the window. A careful knock elicits no response, so Jonghyun places a hand on the doorknob and carefully turns it until it opens.

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting. Apothecaries were only common in the stories he’d read as a child and those years seem so very far away at the moment. He steps inside cautiously, taking great care not to bump into any of the shelves or tables which dimly come into view. It’s late afternoon outside, yet he already feels like he’s walked into a place that exists in a pocket of time that lies beyond the narrow realm of day and night.

Now that his eyes adjust to the lack of light, he attempts to take stock of his surroundings. To his immediate left, exactly where the breadth of the door reached as it curved inside when opened, is a three-legged round-topped table on which a small stack of books lies. Bending a little to read the title of the first one, Jonghyun mouths it to himself: _Portents and Premonitions._

It’s almost like it casts a spell over everything else he lays eyes on next: just before him is a counter on which an old-fashioned cash register rests, as well as a few more mason jars full of the same stuff as the ones on display. Behind it is a shelf that takes up the entire length of the room, its shelves lined with jars of powders, liquids, crystal shards, dried herbs and fungi, and several other things for which names don’t immediately spring to mind. Just across from the counter are racks of scrolls organized into pigeon-holes; on closer inspection of the labels affixed beneath each compartment, they appear to be sorted according to effects ranging from protective (‘a ward against the evil eye of a vengeful ex-lover’) to preservative (‘a barrier against strong winds, heavy rains, excessive mud splatter and the occasional aphid’).

The shop turns out to be a small one, based on how quickly Jonghyun manages to traverse from the entrance to what seems to be the back where a large bookcase takes up space. This was locked, though he can just about decipher the crumbling spines and faded lettering of its contents.

Nothing about this place feels warm or familiar, as he would expect to sense from somewhere from which he was supposed to leave with his wallet lighter than when he entered. Despite the attempt at an aesthetic in the window display, this was clearly a space that stood on its own terms and would likely remain so. He can’t say he likes it – yet – but he can’t shake off the feeling that his surroundings don’t demand much from him or his coffers. He’s not sure if this in itself is a sign of welcome or something that ought to be taken for a warning.

A warm body rubs against his legs and Jonghyun shrieks.

In the midst of blindly stumbling forward and crashing into the bookcase, on the way to almost losing his shit, his vision shifts and sharpens until he catches a glimpse of a moving shadow that glides across the floor. While the force of his forehead banging into solid glass is enough to leave him gasping in pain and struggling to regain his composure, the cat leaps once, twice along some appropriately placed stools until it’s gazing at him serenely from a spot right in the center of the counter.

Jonghyun swallows.

“Um,” He can’t believe this. This couldn’t be happening. “Hello? Is this… do you… are you the – ”

“Is that you again, Taemin?”

The voice cuts through the dark. It’s sharp, tinged with irritation, and – most definitely – not coming from the cat.

There’s rustling from somewhere, then the staccato burst of footsteps hurrying along. In his panicked state, Jonghyun’s eyes dart around, unable to decide whether to settle on the nearest escape point or the closest dark corner he could burrow into for cover. But the footsteps stop as abruptly as they’d started and before he can make his choice, part of the wall over which an old, faded poster hangs swings open, letting in a brief burst of golden light before it’s shut behind the figure that enters the room.

It looks human; tall and thin, clothed in dark jeans and a long-sleeved purple t-shirt. The eyes that meet Jonghyun’s where he stands frozen, his back still pressed to the bookcase, are definitely human. They graze over him once, then rapidly switch to the counter-top, currently occupied by the real culprit licking its paw in contentment. The figure swiftly approaches it and places his hands over his hips as they lean closer to address the cat.

“Taemin, what the _fuck_?”

The cat – Taemin? – purrs happily.

It must mean something to the figure, because he stills and slowly turns around to face Jonghyun. The features on the face are sharp; not chiseled, but fine-boned and perhaps in a different light, just about elegant. The man’s hair is dyed blond and wavy, neatly parted but still in slight disarray. There’s an empty patch on his left eyebrow and the right bottom corner of his shirt is a little frayed. The smallest imperfections; of course, he had to be human.

Jonghyun finds that these observations ground him. The panic dissipates slightly and he finds it in himself to speak up again:

“Hi. I’m sorry for the noise. I just… slipped.”

“Hm.” The man fixes his glare on the cat as he continues. “I don’t suppose I could guess what caused that.”

“It really was an accident. I’m sorry.” Jonghyun blurts out, determined to at least set that part of the story straight. “Your cat just caught me off-guard, that’s all.”

“You’re unfortunately not the first of his victims. Taemin has a habit to break.”

There’s an edge to that last sentence uttered, like it’s meant for the cat to understand. Which, as made apparent from the way Taemin curls into himself with a satisfied mewl, is a thankless endeavor. The man crosses his arms and huffs, but doesn’t make any further attempts at discipline. In that short frame of time, Jonghyun glimpses the line of silver which gleams around his neck. It’s a thin chain, on which hangs a key that swings as the man moves away from the counter towards him.

“I should say it’s my… _our _fault for the lack of hospitality. I’m sorry for the scare.” The man says. “Anyway, what brings you here? What do you need?”

_Every need. Every want. Ever__y desire_. That’s what the card had said. It’s a tempting sales call, one which Jonghyun’s too wary to be lured by. He suddenly realizes that he has no idea how to answer the question.

“Your cat might be the reason I’m here, actually. Taemin, is that right?”

The man groans and sends another glare at the counter. “You’re fucking kidding me…”

“I… I think he… left me a card. With the name and address of this place.”

Jonghyun decides to leave out the part about the card being conjured into his pocket. The few lines he’s let out are already bizarre on their own. “I guess I was just curious, so I finally decided to make my way here. Are you the, um – ”

“I’m Key.”

“Oh, okay.” Jonghyun won’t challenge him on that. “That’s cool. I’m Jonghyun. I stay in one of the apartment blocks in Hankyun-dong.”

Taemin meows in acknowledgment; he’s nodding, the cat is _nodding_. The tiny prickle that shoots up Jonghyun’s legs, right up his spine, just might be a symptom for something that feels a bit more ominous than his expectations of how today would turn out. Still, the expression on Key’s face seems to be settling to a calmness of sorts.

“Alright, Jonghyun from Hankyun-dong. Is there anything I can help you with?”

The easy thing to do would be to shake his head and leave with a polite smile, expecting nothing for the trouble of having to find his way here in the first place. He’s just about to do exactly that, until an object on a nearby shelf catches his eye. The shelf itself is the smallest he’s seen inside the store; a few square inches of wood which is enough to support the thumb-sized vial of opaque white liquid that gleams brightly as a pearl.

The writing on the label stuck just underneath it on the shelf makes time stand still for Jonghyun. Coming back to the moment is like suddenly been awoken from a dream.

He can’t believe he has to ask this, but he finds himself with the words on the tip of his tongue nonetheless: “Does that work?”

There’s a note of caution in Key’s voice as he answers, “There might be only one way to find out…”

* * *

_October 10_

A rose bud, orange extract, black tea, black pepper, dried orange slices, as well as cinnamon and cardamom to taste. It was the list of ingredients which had been brewed to create over an inch and a half of a vial of a liquid spell that would clear hidden insecurities and hinder uncertain auras from forming in budding affections. Or at least, if Key’s grandmother’s recipe was to be believed, a ‘love potion’.

“Don’t take it too seriously.” Key had warned Jonghyun as he’d carefully wrapped the vial in layers of tissue paper before placing it in an unassuming brown paper bag for him to take home. “My grandmother certainly didn’t.”

It explains the bargain deal Jonghyun had got on the price; after all, the damn thing was just decoration until he’d spotted it. And now, in the pale light of another autumn morning, it might as well be. The vial was suspended from a chain which hung from a wall-hook in his kitchen, right next to a fancy copper ladle he’d received as a housewarming gift.

It’s the quietest the place has been, with no music playing from either his or Jinki’s spaces. It’s also the most restless Jonghyun’s been for a while, with nothing to keep his attention from slipping into daydreams, skittering around possibilities that felt too distant to be place his beliefs in. It leads to exorcisms through bass strings and notebook scribbles, isolation from texts and missed phone calls, sequestered inside his own four solid grey walls.

It takes all of his willpower to not bring all of it down to a name, if anything at all. None of it is Jinki’s fault; none of anything which Jonghyun releases into his writing has to reach him. His bedroom is supposed to be a sanctuary for his thoughts, but it’s turning into an alter over which he recites his little personal psalms, the little lies that are supposed to curb his desires.

When his thoughts wander back to the vial, he forces a laugh up from his throat. That makes it feel less real to him, less certain.

He couldn’t let reality get the better of him.

* * *

_October 11_

It’s late at night when he happens upon Jinki in the garden again; too late to quietly turn away this time when he catches Jonghyun looking.

Jonghyun wishes he has something better to say than ‘hey, hyung’ when he draws closer to the bench on which Jinki is seated in his old place on the right. At a quarter past eleven, it’s a time when old friends would seek each other out for comfort and solace from the next day that loomed ahead over the horizon. For what it’s worth, it’s also dark enough that Jonghyun can’t tell if it’s really the curve of a smile or grimace which stretches into Jinki’s cheeks, so it just might be safe enough to assume that his presence is not unwelcome.

“I…” He begins again, hovering near the bench, careful not to overstep any boundaries. “… How are you, Jinki?”

Jinki keeps his eyes fixed on the lumpy, shadowy forms that make up the pumpkin patch and this is how Jonghyun knows he’s made his first blunder.

“God, I’m sorry.” Jonghyun knows he means it; he fervently hopes Jinki does too. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Seemingly on reflex, Jinki replies, “It’s okay.”

They both know it’s not. Jonghyun can feel it, the sharpness in the air they inhale. They’ve already gotten off to a bad start; nothing’s okay and Jonghyun had better not make any pretense of it.

“Uh, Taeyeon noona told me. About Changsun.”

“It’s o – ” Jinki stops himself this time. The rest of the half-hearted affirmation trails off into a sigh while Jonghyun carefully seats himself on the other side of the bench. There’s plenty of space left in-between; he’ll keep it that way.

Time does nothing but crawl. They look around the garden, at the bird feeder which lies a few feet beyond the pumpkin patch, at the neat rows of ground vegetables growing beneath the soil and the empty patches from which flowers had bloomed in spring a few months ago. The crocuses, violets and hydrangeas seem to have vanished into another time altogether, instead of having been cut and placed into bowls half-filled with water before they wilted in the summer heat. Jonghyun wonders what he should comment on: the flowers they’d picked or the barren spaces left behind.

“I’m so sorry.” He says again instead, already feeling like an inadequate fool. “I should’ve noticed. Not… not that I want to get in your business or anything, but… I should’ve…”

“I always thought we fell in love too fast.”

The rest of Jonghyun’s words rapidly disintegrate when Jinki says that. It then immediately hits him how that sentiment doesn’t apply to him. It’s Changsun whom Jinki’s talking about. Of course. Jonghyun should’ve realized it sooner.

Not once does Jinki look at him when he speaks again.

“Changsun was the one who asked me out first.” Jinki speaks to the night, the moon and the stars, anything except Jonghyun apparently. “He’d do the weirdest cute little things. Just stuff like randomly buy me roses or socks. He even tried to knit me a pair for our – ”

Jinki abruptly swallows and Jonghyun thinks he’s trying to collect himself. When no more words follow, he ventures a little closer; enough to close the gap, not so much as to give in to the temptation of touch.

“Jinki…”

“I shouldn’t have said ‘yes’ when he asked me to move in after six months. That was _so_ dumb.” Despite everything, Jinki’s trying to laugh. The attempt is failing miserably. “Who does that anyway? All we’d done up until then was hang out and eat and drink and fuck around afterwards…”

Another abrupt stop; the heat in Jinki’s words has made its way to his face. Jonghyun can’t see much in the dark, but he can definitely feel _that_. Jinki’s aware of it too; he cups his hands around his face and tries to bury the rest of what’s building inside him. Jonghyun already knows it’s futile.

But he knows better than to tell that to Jinki. All Jinki needs right now is a willing ear and a shoulder to cry on. That much, Jonghyun can give.

“Jinki.” He reaches out, gently wrapping an arm around Jinki’s trembling shoulders. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

Jonghyun has never wanted anything to be so true than what he’s saying right at this moment. “You’re going to be okay. I know you will.”

There’s many other things he wants to say, but as Jinki shifts and shivers in his arms, he knows that nothing else will do, certainly not the truth. All that’s left is himself and that would be too much for Jinki, just as it is for Jonghyun.

“Just tell me what to do, alright?”

“Jonghyun, please – ”

“I won’t mind. I’ll do anything for you.”

Himself. All Jonghyun has is himself to give.

“Just… please don’t go. Not now. Just for now.” Jinki’s voice is barely a whisper and that’s enough for Jonghyun to stay.

He lets Jinki sink deeper into his embrace and buries the rest of the thoughts that bloom in his chest.

* * *

_October 12_

Jonghyun sleeps in the morning after. The rest of the night before saw him lead Jinki back upstairs to drop him off at his own doorstep. He hadn’t dared step in any further; it would have been both too much and too little of everything he couldn’t have. The lingering push and pull had lasted long into the early hours, finally leaving him exhausted enough to succumb to dreams.

It’s not until late afternoon that he’s forced awake by Roo’s persistent whining. A glance at his desk clock reveals that it’s long past both their usual lunch times, which makes him feel even worse than when he’d gone to bed.

“I’m sorry.” He croons to her as he fills her bowl, adding extra kibble to make up for his carelessness. “I’ve been terrible today, haven’t I?”

Roo looks over at him from behind the mountain of dog food, her eyes pitying, and that’s when he knows he’s let off the hook. Roo’s forgiveness isn’t something earned lightly, or at the very least, not more than worth her weight in kibble.

There’s a light blinking away from the corner of his phone, which he suspects is a notification from Minho, demanding an explanation for his absence from their four-times-a-week workout session. Either that, or a soccer meme, and Jonghyun prefers the former.

_‘hey… sorry about last night…’_

Jinki? The shock of realizing he’s had this number saved in his contacts all this time jolts him fully awake to read the rest of the text:

_‘i’ve been a mess_

_‘just trying to work through shit_

_‘i’m sorry i dragged you into it’_

Jonghyun’s finger hovers over the keyboard as his mind searches for the perfect response. He ends up letting the screen fade into darkness, throws on some clothes, pockets the phone and grabs his keys from the bowl on the side-table near the entryway on his way outside.

The publishing house where Jinki works is half an hour’s drive from Hankyun-dong. Jonghyun finds that he still remembers the route; the familiar eruption of butterflies in his stomach welcomes him as he enters the highway. It’s a balmy enough afternoon for him to drive with the windows down and the air-conditioning switched off. He remembers doing this with Jinki last summer, when he would grumble about the heat when the temperature control had broken, and Jinki would just laugh louder, a sound that would still ring strong in the torrent of noise from the radio and surrounding traffic.

He needs to hear that sound again somehow, loud and clear over its echo left in his head. As he draws nearer towards the wide side-roads of Seoul’s main business district, Jonghyun realizes that he has no idea how to bring that laughter back anymore. It makes his heart sink; his hands on the steering-wheel grow clammy.

His nerves last the rest of the way to his and Jinki’s former meet-up point, which is a café situated conveniently across from a large neighborhood square. Jonghyun parks in the nearest empty space in front of an apartment block, walks to the shop’s outdoor seating area and leans against one of the tables as he responds to Jinki’s last text:

_‘it’s okay :)_

_‘pls don’t apologize_

_‘wanna meet up?’_

He instantly regrets sending that last line; he doesn’t want to take advantage of Jinki’s emotional state.

_‘if you want to’_

Nothing to do but wait now, wait and try not to hope for too much. It’s almost five, which is around the standard time for office workers to commence shutting down their PCs for the day and checking their phone screens for the latest traffic updates for the commute back home or to the latest bar if it’s been a particularly shitty day. Or if neither of these feel particularly welcoming, Jonghyun supposes he understands the appeal in putting in extra hours of overtime. It’s probably why he hadn’t seen much of Jinki in the last month.

He’d understand if Jinki wouldn’t want to see much of him either.

His phone-screen lights up.

_‘i’d like to’_

Relief and trepidation rush through him as he types out a reply:

_‘that’s great :D_

_‘meet me @ universe?’_

Jinki’s office is two buildings away, so Jonghyun takes a seat at the table and allows his memories to drift back to the one summer he loved: when the heat didn’t bother him as much whenever he caught Jinki snickering at his own corny joke, when his car and the apartment next door were full of music, when the tracks on his radio show playlist stood out in order of when he’d last heard Jinki sing along to them.

He wishes he’d brought the notepad he usually has stashed in his desk-drawer or car, in case he needed to get the ideas in his head clear. Very few things have been lately, except what he felt whenever he thought of Jinki. A pile of paper napkins sitting in the polished metal holder holds distracting appeal to gun down these distracting thoughts; he pulls one out, remembers he has no pen or pencil to wield, then mournfully sets to folding and refolding the napkin until the white paper planes gradually begin to resemble petals.

He misses his guitar, misses the comfort of plucking its strings to coax his secrets out of himself like the way he wished he could do with Jinki’s smiles. Then he looks up and there’s Jinki, sweet Jinki, a bit worn and faded from fifteen feet away, but still so lovely in Jonghyun’s eyes. Jonghyun couldn’t stand to let him know.

The closer Jinki appears, the bigger his grin grows. It’s not enough to crease his eyes like they used to, but Jonghyun thinks he sees a bit of a spark in them as he leaps up to greet him.

“Jinki!” That name, always so comfortably nestled in the corner of his mouth and ready to fall from his lips. Jonghyun knows he needs to be careful. “Hyung!”

They meet in a halfway hug; their hands stop at the crook of the other’s elbows and rest there as their smiles meet.

“Stop me calling me ‘hyung’, won’t you? Reminds me I’m getting old.”

“Okay.” Jonghyun knows he’s trying to get away with being careless. “Jinki.”

They both seem to be lost in the moment, a reunion of sorts. It occurs to Jonghyun that this is as close as he’s going to get to Jinki.

“D’you wanna go inside?”

Jinki’s answer comes easily enough: “Yeah, sure.”

They head inside; the bell above the door jingles in welcome as it swings open, Junmyeon shouts out their usual orders (“One mochaccino, no sugar, one café latte, shot of caramel.”) for Sehun to prepare without so much as glancing from the clipboard he’s bent over studying on the counter, while they settle at their old place near the window. It almost feels like coming home. 

When their coffees arrive, the conversation gets stuck on the awkward gap that lies after greetings and small talk. They’re the same people who used to hang out here together, but Jinki has changed and Jonghyun doesn’t know where to go from there. One never left a relationship the same person they’d been before entering it; this much he knows from experience. He doesn’t know if he’s the same person Jinki would seek when he’d been with Changsun or if it even matters or if he even wants it to matter as much to himself as it would to Jinki.

Jonghyun doesn’t know what to do. The words have been right there in his head and now they aren’t, and Jinki looks at him with an expression he’s never seen before.

“I almost forgot to feed Roo today.” He blurts out. “Overslept. She had to wake me up.”

To Jonghyun’s consternation, this only seems to make Jinki more concerned. “Oh? You didn’t sleep well? I’m sorry – ”

“Jinki, I don’t sleep well anyway. It had nothing to do with you.”

“Anyway,” Jinki sighs over his cup. “Last night… wasn’t worth dumping myself on you. I should be taking better care of myself.”

“You should.” Jonghyun agrees. “And I didn’t mind, really. You looked like you needed to get it off your chest.”

Jinki blinks, then nods slowly.

Jonghyun inhales before taking a sip from his own cup. All of a sudden, the memories of last summer have melded into today’s October: laughter into sighs, the fullness of happiness tapered into a scant sense of longing which hangs over him.

“You can talk all you like, you know. About anything. I’ll listen.” _Even if it’s about him_, Jonghyun adds silently. He’d be willing to listen all day, if it’s from Jinki.

“And if I… if I don’t feel like it?”

“Then you don’t have to right now. I’ll be around, whenever you’re ready.” Jonghyun tries to smile throughout. “I can talk enough for two of us anyway. You know that.”

The corners of Jinki’s lips twitch ever so slightly upward. “Honestly? I wouldn’t mind that now.”

So Jonghyun talks: about the sunsets that are always so picturesque at this time of year, about how well the azure forget-me-nots and golden crocuses go together, how the colors remind him somewhat of peacock feathers, about the new batch of vinyls he’s seen being delivered to the old music store they used to frequent on weekends, about Roo’s urinary incontinence that flared up unexpectedly when he’d scooped her up from the floor in delight after seeing her after a long night at work. About the great harvest moon they’re expecting, how he hopes to catch a glimpse of it when he drives home after work, how bright the stars would shine without the influence of light pollution, how bright they still shine in spite of it, and everything beneath them.

Sometime ago, he’s sure he must have spoken of these very same things to Jinki. If he hadn’t known better, he’d be sure that it might just be the first time Jinki had ever heard of these small, unimportant things, things that meant something to Jonghyun regardless, things that – judging by the way Jinki’s eyes light up – must mean something to him too.

* * *

_October 13_

It’s Friday the thirteenth, a date that Jonghyun’s forgotten the significance of. Without a reminder from one of his regular listeners on his show, it might’ve slipped his mind completely.

“So is that why you’ve been indoors all day, Sunyoung-ssi? Because it’s unlucky?”

“I got into a car accident the last time on Friday the thirteenth, oppa! Isn’t it better to not take such risks?”

“Ahh,” Jonghyun can’t argue with superstition. “You might have a point. Do take care of yourself, even as you stay home.”

“I will!” comes the earnest response. “Jjong D should take care of himself too.”

Throughout all the events of the last few days, the vial has remained untouched on its chain. Jonghyun looks at it now and is reminded of a violet-eyed black cat and its owner. He remembers that the cat is a harbinger of doom called ‘Taemin’ and the owner is ‘Key’, and that love potions aren’t something to be taken seriously.

“Roo…” He calls out in jest, holding out the vial between his thumb and finger. “What do you think? Wouldn’t you not prefer to be lonely by the time Halloween arrives?”

Roo looks at the vial, then at Jonghyun, sniffs and turns around to head back to her cushion.

“Heh, you’re no fun.” Jonghyun mutters as he pulls the cork off the vial and takes a small sip. For a love potion, it sure tastes bitter.

He swallows the rest.

* * *

_October 14_

Jonghyun can’t drive to pick up Jinki this evening because he has a meeting scheduled with his show’s producers prior to tonight’s airing.

_‘it’s okay :)_

_‘i’ll still be listening to you tonight’_

Jinki’s texts loom in the back of his mind as he wraps up the meeting and gets his notes in order. He looks at tonight’s playlist, searching for answers to questions Jinki hasn’t asked yet.

“Have you ever felt homesick for a place you’ve never been to?” He asks his listeners, half-hoping they can help. “What do you call that feeling?”

The live chat-stream speeds up with responses.

“Fern… way?” Jonghyun squints at the monitor. “Fernweh? I hope I’m pronouncing that correctly? Is that what it’s called?”

_'cloud9: it’s german ;)'_

_'cloud9: at least i think it is…'_

“Ahh, thank you, Nine-ssi. That’s interesting to learn.”

It is. Except that Jonghyun’s homesick for a person, not a place, and he’s not even sure if he has any right to be. He couldn’t have said that on-air, especially with Jinki listening. He certainly didn’t want to rush Jinki into anything he wasn’t ready for, which left everything else left unsaid in his head stewing and simmering until the next time he got a hold of his guitar or pen.

After the show ends, he heads straight to his car and turns on the radio as soon as he starts the ignition. The only songs that play at this hour are the old ones, long-forgotten by mainstream but kept well and alive by the ahjummas and ahjusshis at many a long-running noraebang. He can’t relate to any of them, so none of the lyrics stick with him. Maybe it’s for the best; he’s already got enough words brewing inside him.

Still, as he nears the apartment block and parks his car in the space reserved for residents, he can’t get himself to leave. Upstairs is his apartment and right next to it is Jinki’s, both so quiet and lonesome. He internally debates between that and the classic jazz number now playing. He ends up choosing his apartment, where Roo probably lies asleep next-door to Jinki. It’s too late to disturb either of them.

So as soon as he locks his car, he takes out his earphones and plugs them into his phone. The first thing he presses play on is an untitled track he’s been working on and soon, there’s nothing but the sound of his own voice in his head.

He leaves the earphones in even after entering his place and collapsing into bed. The songs come and go, his thoughts drift along until his eyes finally close and slumber draws its veil over him.

In the dream, it’s Jinki who holds him instead, without a word to say, but a smile fixed on his lips. And Jonghyun tries to reach for him, just the smallest caress of his cheek, but finds himself crumbling. Nevertheless, Jinki holds onto him and he holds onto Jinki and he’s only faintly aware of how his legs root themselves to the earth, how the veins in his arms seem to bleed roses as they try to cling to Jinki’s.

He tries to tell him and the words fall apart on the tip of his tongue.

* * *

_October 15_

When Jonghyun wakes up with a dry mouth and itchy throat, the first blood red petal flutters from his mouth to the pristine black of his sheets.


	2. xvi-xxxi

_October 16_

Jonghyun’s mind is a playground of sound; in that halfway space between sleep and wakefulness, he imagines he hears the song in his head on a Monday morning. It’s a few notes of a melody, not yet a bridge or a chorus, but it seems to skim along his fingers like silk as they itch to touch it, to make it make sense. Then in a few seconds, he no longer has time to contemplate how to weave something as beautiful in his imagination when his phone ringtone begins its familiar shriek.

He’s awake now, at the price of a good dream. Grumbling, he reaches over to swipe the brightly lit screen and answer: “H’llo?”

“Where the hell were you last night?”

“Just…” He stumbles over an answer as he takes in the name of the caller. _Kim Heechul_. “Hyung? What’re you… no, _why_ are you calling? It’s early.”

“Rise and shine, it’s 11:30, my dear nocturnal friend. I’m honestly quite shocked you weren’t around on the scene 12 hours ago.”

‘On the scene’ in Heechul’s lexicon goes only as far as what lay inside his little – “It’s cozy!”, he would protest – yakitori restaurant slash bar, which he owned and operated in Jongno-gu. It’s also one of the last things on Jonghyun’s mind in the morning after the last night he’d spent awake composing. But he’ll humor Heechul.

“Some of us are just getting productive around that time, hyung.”

“Oh, I agree. Minho sure was productive with getting around to finally confessing to his beloved Changminnie hyung…”

Shit. Jonghyun had completely forgotten. Yesterday had been the fifteenth; Changmin had flown back from Tokyo on the Friday the thirteenth. This already didn’t bode well.

“… And?”

“Well, I must say I’ve seen worse rejections since the time I opened this place. I mean, there _is_ a reason I decided to nail the chairs and tables to the floor, _and_ keep the mecha figurines out of throwing range.”

“Fuck, Minho got dumped?”

“Just be thankful that Changmin had the heart to do it gently.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘gently’ letting down someone.” Jonghyun’s already scrambling out of bed and rummaging through his wardrobe for clothes to pull on. “Where’s Minho? And why didn’t he call me?”

“Calm down, he’s at my place. Had him spend the night on the couch after I found him sitting on the pavement half a block away when I was driving home after closing. Heartbreak does make one indisposed to phone usage. Unless it’s flinging it across the room at the former object of your affections, which thankfully _wasn’t_ something that occurred last night.”

Jonghyun’s heart clenches. He’s about to cut in on Heechul’s monologue when a cough overtakes him. It’s strange how he’s never had allergies flaring up at this time of year before.

Heechul doesn’t seem to have noticed the interruption. “Anyways, you’re his buddy. It’s only right that you come and collect him, and go off and bitch about how shitty your exes are or whatever. Goodness knows I’ve tried with him, but he doesn’t seem to be taking well to my anecdotes on Siwon’s kink preferen – ”

“I’m on my way.” Jonghyun tries to swallow the itch that crawls up his throat. He already feels guilty about forgetting Minho’s all-important confession date, as much as he’s also made light of it in the days leading up to it. Minho’s never had a serious relationship – two and a half study dates with Choi Jinri in high school didn’t count – and Jonghyun should’ve known better than to leave him to handle his first heartache alone. Heechul texts him the directions to his house, which he keeps pinned to his lockscreen throughout the short journey it takes in his car.

Heechul lives in the comfortable-looking upstairs flat of a rental house, just twenty minutes driving distance from his place of work. As Jonghyun pulls up in the street in front of it, he catches sight of Heechul’s beloved cat Heebum, a common fixture on his owner’s SNS, now seated on the window-ledge as he basked in the noon light. Unlike Taemin, Heebum is a lighter shade of grey and mostly keeps out of reach of human contact. The contrast immediately vanishes from Jonghyun’s mind as the door opens soon after he rings the bell. He steps in hesitantly, taking note of Heechul’s frown and crossed arms.

“Where is he?”

“He’s cleaning my kitchen.”

“He’s what?!”

“Choi Minho is right in there, in my kitchen, wiping down my countertops.” It’s now that Jonghyun sees the alarm barely concealed on Heechul’s face. “Before that, he tried to cook me breakfast. After I talked him out of that, he got a hold of the one of the dishcloths and went to work on my One Piece cabinet. I mean, not that I’m not grateful now that he got that smudge off from between Chopper’s eyes, but why is he not doing the sensible thing like most people and just getting sloshed on the liquor lying around?”

“It’s his first time getting rejected, hyung.” Jonghyun reasons, maneuvering himself around Heechul, hoping to get to where Minho had settled. “I expect there’ll be more weirdness to deal with…”

“Hey, Heechul hyung?”

He traces Minho’s voice to behind a teal love-seat, where he sits on the floor with his longs legs folded awkwardly under him, one hand fisted around a dingy scrap of cloth and the other clutching a gleaming figurine. “Is there any point in the story where Trafalgar Law loses an arm?”

Heechul peers at what little Minho allows of the figurine to be shown. “Not in the arc where I’m on in the show.”

Minho’s shoulders tense and he bites his bottom lip, heat rushing up the back of his neck from where Jonghyun sees. Heechul notices too.

“You know, I’m quite sure it’s a given for any character in this series to lose a limb at some random point in the future, Minho. Don’t worry about it.”

Now that Jonghyun gets a good look at Minho, he realizes that they’re in deep. Minho’s hair is unruly from a night of tossing and turning, and his eyes are puffy and listless. He crouches down to Minho’s level – a feat they’d both only joked about before – and reaches for him, hands loosely gripping his shoulders.

“Let’s get you home.”

Minho stares at him, as if he was trying to search Jonghyun’s eyes and see straight into his soul for an answer. A while later, he’s nodding and allowing himself to be draw up to stand. He meets Heechul’s concerned gaze again and murmurs a quiet apology.

“Hey, it’s nothing.” Heechul easily grins while patting him on the back. “Go home, sleep it off, store up some energy for drinks and dancing later if you’re stopping by. Gotta put that body to good use, eh?”

The advice all but seems to fly over Minho’s head. Jonghyun decides that it’s better not to add any more well-meaning words to the mix and just focus on getting Minho into his car, which at least goes more smoothly than expected after Heechul insists on trailing behind them, with more suggestions on cocktail mixes and currently single hyungs to fill up the Changmin-shaped void. As soon as the passenger door closes after Minho clambers in and they wave off Heechul as the car drives down the road, it’s a sigh of relief that Jonghyun exhales.

“Tell me about it.” Minho agrees.

“He means well.”

“I know.”

“It was nice of him to take you in after…” The twinge of guilt is back in Jonghyun’s chest. “Minho, I’m sorry. I should’ve checked on you.”

Minho makes a show of shrugging; Jonghyun knows how much effort goes into making it look convincing, right down to the smallest crease of his fake little smile.

“It’s fine.” Minho says, his face turned towards the passing scenery outside the window.

Jonghyun knows better. He decides to give it time.

The hum of the air-conditioning makes the silence in the car somewhat bearable, while Jonghyun lines the questions in his head: how and why mostly. Another glance at Minho’s averted face puts an end to any of the ones he might’ve braved to ask.

Instead: “You’re still the same, Minho. D’you know that?”

As expected, Minho’s head turns, his expression torn between confusion and frustration. “The same what?”

“The same annoyingly amazing best friend I could ask for, even when I don’t deserve it. The same friend who’s helped me through more shitty break-ups than he needed to and whose advice I need to take more seriously.”

The corner of Minho’s mouth twitches upward slightly before he schools his features into a cooler façade. “It’s not like I don’t know that.”

“Right? It’s just a reminder.”

Silence again; Jonghyun lets it envelop them. He doesn’t switch on the radio nor does he voice his thoughts again until Minho speaks:

“Hyung said I’m his favorite dongsaeng. And that I’m precious to him.”

He’s talking about Changmin, of course. Heechul had been right about one thing; it could’ve gone a lot worse.

“It didn’t hurt much while he was saying these things. He even apologized. _So_ many times. More than he needed to. And I thought I was okay, until he called for the bill and my mind just… went blank.”

Jonghyun nods encouragingly, trying to catch Minho’s glances reflected in the windshield. He’s more than a little familiar with these stages of rejection.

“We walked out of the restaurant and hyung offered me a ride home, but I said I couldn’t because I had stuff to do. He didn’t try to argue. He just said he’d text me later. And then he drove off and I stood there, watching, and…”

Jonghyun knows what comes next, even before Minho’s aware of it. Here comes the real pain, the sharp pain that blooms from somewhere as invisible as a papercut but stings just as bad. Multiply that by a ten year old crush and the result was twenty five year old Choi Minho, crashing as hard as he would have at age fifteen.

It’s time to slow down and take stock, assess the damage. It’s what Jonghyun knows he should be doing as he gently steps on the brake. Minho doesn’t appear to notice at first.

“Hey.” Jonghyun chimes in.

Minho looks up at him, puzzled.

“Unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over here.”

“Why?”

“You need a hug, you dweeb.”

It takes a few seconds, but Minho’s face does crack into a smile. A genuine one. With the car now at a standstill on the side of the road, he does as he’s told and doesn’t complain when he has to bend forward a few extra degrees to accommodate Jonghyun’s embrace.

* * *

_October 17_

The coughing’s worse today; Jonghyun had also discovered that his supply of ginger tea had run empty and he was in no mood to head outside to the nearest grocery to stock up. The pouring rain feels like a good excuse to sequester himself indoors and work on finalizing the harmonies for the new song. Whether it’ll see the light of day is another question.

The page of notes lies on an unusually clean desk, next to a mug of steaming hot water with honey and lemon placed on a Blue Night coaster. It’s the pen that keeps changing position, shifting around from crossing out bars and verses on the lined paper to balancing on the soft skin between his nose and upper lip. As far as inspiration goes, he’s fared better.

A soft patter of paws on the bedroom floor announces Roo’s arrival. However, she rejects his welcoming coos for her new chew toy, a curved squishy banana with astonished googly eyes that seem to roll around in horror as she clamps it in her jaws.

“Roo…” Jonghyun keeps trying nonetheless. “Come comfort Appa, Roo. Appa’s been sick all day.”

The doorbell rings. Roo’s ears prick up only momentarily before going back to devouring the poor fake fruit. Jonghyun’s sure he told Minho to take it easy and rest at home, but if it’s companionship he needs, Jonghyun’s door will be open. There’s a few DVDs they can spend the rest of the afternoon watching, while munching through bowls and bowls of popcorn. He hopes that heartbreak hasn’t affected Minho’s appetite.

Except that it isn’t Minho who stands there on his doormat, when he unlocks the door.

“Um,” Jinki’s smile is small, hesitant and so very unlike him that Jonghyun’s mind nearly blanks out completely. He remembers how sweet that smile could look; he wonders if it would taste just as much.

“Hey…” Jinki finishes with his eyes glancing over Jonghyun’s oversized _Attack on Titan_ t-shirt and holey maroon sweatpants. “I guess this is a bad time?”

“No!” Jonghyun croaks. A flush of heat burns through his neck and cheeks. He tries to salvage the last shreds of his dignity by clearing his throat, forcing his voice to settle into a calmer tone. “I-I mean, no. This is good. I’m good.”

He can’t blame Jinki for looking skeptical.

“It’s a sore throat, hyung. Maybe something viral.”

He wouldn’t even blame Jinki if he chose to back off right now. Instead, Jinki lifts his hands, which contain the Maxwell vinyl.

“Forgot to return this from last time. Sorry.”

“What did I say about apologizing, hyung?”

Jinki’s smile grows with Jonghyun’s, slow but sure. “The same thing I said about calling me ‘hyung’?”

“You’re getting there.” Jonghyun feels the old warmth in his chest as he takes back his vinyl and the sensation seeps right through the tips of his fingers. There’s not even a speck of dust on the cover, though he wouldn’t have even minded if there was. Jinki’s taken good care of it.

He can’t explain the coughing fit that follows.

Jinki’s palm immediately lands on his back, soft and soothing as he rubs over the fabric of his t-shirt. Then it’s gone and Jonghyun wonders if he imagined it.

“Hang on here for a while, I’ll just get something from my place.”

Jinki leaves him, the door still stands open, and Jonghyun squints at the dim light it lets in, gazing briefly at the gloomy horizon. He hears the low click of Jinki’s apartment door opening and the footsteps which grow quieter as his neighbor gets to looking around for whatever ‘something’ could be. There’s little to do but breathe in the moist air that streams inside; Jonghyun does it with his eyes closed, until his head spins from the memories the inertia evokes.

Jinki’s door clicks again. Jonghyun opens his eyes and there Jinki stands again on his doorstep, twice in one day, and he can only chalk it down to a brief stroke of luck.

He eyes the packet now in Jinki’s hands. “Is this something else I lent you?”

“You wish. It’s actually something my mum did, when I fell sick – ”

“You were sick?”

“It was a while ago, Jonghyun-ah,” Jinki soothes as he carefully steps forward, right off the welcome mat and a step further into Jonghyun’s entryway before he suddenly stops. “Um, is this okay?”

Jinki has never set further into his apartment; Jonghyun thinks he needs to amend that.

“It’s okay, Jinki.”

He wishes he could take in everything that followed in a series of snapshots: Jinki’s face as he glances downwards when toeing off his house slippers, the first few steps he takes into Jonghyun’s living-room, the way in which even the air around them seems to shift as they gather their bearings. Jinki’s finally in his space and it somehow feels so distant.

Jinki’s walking past him, hesitatingly taking in the change in scenery around him. Jonghyun wonders if it feels like a strange new world for him altogether. It had to, of course. Jonghyun had never invited him over, not while Changsun had been around.

As if perfectly timed, Roo scuttles into the room, barking joyously, the hapless chewy banana probably lying forgotten under Jonghyun’s bed. The smile on Jinki’s face, so reserved in the time that he’d dropped in, now breaks open fully.

“Here’s our princess,” He murmurs as he bends down to scratch behind her ears. When Roo tilts her head up to sniff at the packet, he lifts it away. “You don’t want that, trust me.”

Jonghyun barely stifles a giggle as he joins them. “Are you seriously going to try giving me something you wouldn’t even feed to my dog?”

“Roo’s different. She’s royalty.”

“Oh? And I’m not?”

“You’re…” The smile falters and Jonghyun’s heart drops. He follows Jinki as he heads to the kitchen and places the packet on the – thankfully, uncluttered – countertop. The invisible fog is back, the same one which has kept lingering around their conversations, veiling everything that went on in Jinki’s head. After that time in the garden, there was little Jinki brought up about the past with Changsun. Jonghyun can’t feel any sort of relief at that; he keeps waiting for something to drop, to shatter.

At Jonghyun’s nod, Jinki reaches for one of the freshly washed mugs laid out to dry on a clean towel.

“Do you have a teaspoon?”

Jonghyun promptly fetches one from a nearby drawer.

“Oh, and we need to get some water boiling.”

Jonghyun brings out the electric kettle and plugs it in, then pours in a glassful of water before flicking the switch to start heating it up.

It barely takes a minute until they hear the water bubbling inside, but the silence that falls within irks Jonghyun. He’s had to be so careful around Jinki, spacing out his words so that they’re always enough to fill in the gaps both of them leave on purpose. With a cough keeping his throat occupied, Jonghyun begins to think he’s made a mistake in letting Jinki in like this.

Once the water reaches boiling point, Jinki lifts the kettle and pours it into the mug to mix with the muddy brown powder. Jonghyun takes a second to contemplate his reflection in the dark liquid, before asking, “What’s in it?”

“Three things: marshmallow root, thistle leaves and a mother’s love.”

A blush grows ripe on Jinki’s cheeks. “My mum bought it from some old peddler when my parents went hiking in the reserve near Jirisan. It’s what they told her, so no judging.”

“To be honest, I expected something more exciting. You know, toad-skin, newt eyes, beetle hearts…”

Jinki wrinkles his nose the further he goes on and it’s already the best thing Jonghyun’s seen all day. He notes every bit of the sight; from where he is, this close to Jinki, he knows the memory’s going to be one on replay all night and maybe the rest of the next day, if he can help it.

Meanwhile, Jinki takes his time stirring the mixture. Seventeen seconds; Jonghyun keeps count.

Once he’s done, Jinki lifts the mug before him, with a sheepish smile. “I’m warning you, this is probably gonna taste awful.”

Jonghyun gazes once again at the mug’s contents, his eyes meeting his very own through the steam, and thinks of the last potion he took. “Bet I can handle it.”

He takes the mug and brings it to his lips, sips, and swallows. Jinki watches him carefully, as if expecting him to start belching slugs or coughing up slurries of earthworms. Jonghyun thinks his imagination’s running wild with the fever now. He takes another sip.

“How is it?” Jinki probes.

“You’re right. Putrid.”

Over the ceramic rim, he watches Jinki’s little smile warm up and expand into the full-fledged grin he remembers from last summer in his car.

And then, Jinki laughs.

Jonghyun finishes the rest of the mug in three gulps, making sure to pull a worse face each time just to hear that sound again.

* * *

_October 18_

Whatever virus that’s festering in his lungs seems to be lying low for the time-being; long enough to get him through another live show.

“So yes, that’s been the highlight of my day: not waking up with an itchy throat.” He sniggers into the mic as the comments roll in on the live-chat. “What? ‘Count your blessings’, as the saying goes?”

_‘krystaljung94: oppa should really get out more often…’_

“You know, everyone keeps me telling me this and I can’t really figure out why. A lack of a cough, especially in this weather, should count as a major positive event, don’t you think, listeners?”

_‘amberjliu: oppa needs a more physical audience, better download a dating app :P’_

“Aigoo, I once told a friend to try that because I thought he was the boring one. To see comments like this from you guys now, aigoo…”

Although he seriously hopes Minho hadn’t taken him seriously that one time. If he’d throw himself into the dating scene with as much vigor as he did with his weekend football games, Jonghyun fully intended to rescind his Best Friend status over the amount of panicking and fussing that would inevitably ensue. It had already been bad enough with Changmin.

“Hm, so if I were to get on one of these apps, what type of people should I expect to find? Judging by listeners’ comments, I’m sure you’ve had plenty of experiences…”

_‘lunasunyoung: make sure to list ‘playing with pets’ as hobby, don’t make it ‘pet play’ for short. sooo many weirdos out there ;_;’_

_‘gogoyoungbae: always swipe left if profile says ‘must love kids’ kekekeke’_

_‘kjongdae: as long as they don’t list ‘cleaning’ as a hobby…’_

_‘xiuminseok: what’s wrong with cleaning’_

_‘bbaekhyun: met someone on that site, then we broke up because I beat them on pubg ^o^;’_

_‘taeyeonss: stop lying’_

“Ahh, you guys,” Jonghyun smiles despite himself. “You guys are the best.”

* * *

_October 19_

Jinki has to work late tonight while Jonghyun’s cough flares up. He’s surprised that Jinki called him at all. It’s not like Jonghyun’s an invalid who needs regular check-ups, although Jinki’s voice – even heard from a distance through his phone – is always enough to lift his spirits.

“You sure you’re okay? I could drop by the pharmacy and pick some Ibuprofen – ”

“Jinki, relax, it’s just an itch.”

“That right now doesn’t sound like just an itch.”

It’s a strange type of virus, one that burns his throat and makes each swallow feel like he’s downed a mouthful of glass splinters, but still hasn’t yet progressed to the gross part of every illness which should have him spewing all sorts of fluids from his mouth and nose by now. Not that Jonghyun’s hoping for anything worse.

“It was fine when I took that stuff you brought me last time, remember? I’ll just make myself some again.”

“Oh? Are you going to make those faces again as well?” Jinki’s smiling and Jonghyun knows because he can hear it. “Now I’m even more sorry that I won’t be around to see those.”

“I’ll send you selcas. Swear it.” Jonghyun unconsciously extends his pinky finger, then makes a conscious attempt to divert the image of it linking with Jinki’s from his mind. “Keep one as your lockscreen. That way, you’ll have something to laugh at whenever you check how late it is while you have to work.”

“Aw, you’re so thoughtful. What would I do without you?”

Jonghyun hopes his own laughter is enough to mask another cough and yet another question that suddenly fills his head: _What would you do?_

He tries to smother both with his own answer. “You’d probably enjoy the peace and quiet anyway, without me babbling on and on.”

“I like your babbling. I even have it saved on my phone.”

Jonghyun’s heart stops.

“… What?”

“You know, your radio app? I always download the shows I missed so I can listen to them later. Like, when I’m taking the subway, or if I’m alone at work, or just…”

Jonghyun can hear it in the silence that follows: the skipped heartbeat that rises from his chest and echoes in his ears.

“… You’re just nice to listen to.”

He can’t think of anything to say to this, except the smallest ‘Oh’ that escapes him.

Jinki’s so sweet, so, so sweet, and it leaves an imprint on everything that crosses Jonghyun’s mind next as they talk more, about the changing weather and the golden hour that perfectly aligns with the end of office hours and the nights being so blessedly long. Afterwards, long after Jinki hangs up and Jonghyun lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, he finds he can recollect their conversation perfectly, down to the exact words if he concentrates on the feeling bubbling beneath them. Even when he lets his thoughts drift deeper, he still remembers each and every single one of them, rolling and coiling around Jinki’s tongue, coated in his dulcet tones.

The dream comes much, much later: he tosses and turns around in his sleep, looking down only to find his feet rooted in soil. It’s a ball and chain keeping in his place as he desperately tries to get himself to break free, to rush towards the sound of Jinki’s laughter that sounds so far off. Just as suddenly as it starts, it ends with him waking up before dawn, gasping for air as something rises and unfolds itself inside his throat.

* * *

_October 19_

It’s at noon when he finally takes heed of all the soft red petals he’s thrown up. Some are a deep maroon, some veer toward a more orange hue and some glisten in an array of sticky reds, speckled like blood against the white porcelain of the commode.

As the day stretches on and fades into night again, he comes to terms with the signs and makes sure to set his phone alarm to awake him early in the morning so he can make it back to the apothecary as soon as it opens for business.

* * *

_October 20_

Key doesn’t seem to take the news of his symptoms well; once Jonghyun finishes listing them, he retreats hastily behind the hidden door. Jonghyun can hear him scurrying around, his scattershot footsteps growing increasingly frantic and punctuated by several thumps of heavy items possibly being lugged out or flung around. Even Taemin seems stranger than usual; he’s made no attempt to unsettle Jonghyun since he dropped by and instead regards him cautiously from his vantage point on a shelf behind the counter.

Jonghyun doesn’t know what to make of any of this, except that it can’t be good news on the way. He’d made sure to gather some of the petals in a jar he’d brought for Key to inspect. The jar now stood alone on the counter with only Jonghyun – and Taemin, glaring at it suspiciously – as an audience. It doesn’t take much perceptive power for either of them to pick up on the sense of an ill omen. Jonghyun finds himself contemplating the black cat on the shelf and finding reasons to dredge up all the old superstitions he’d been raised with. 

The footsteps behind the wall pick up again and then the door swings open again for Key to burst into the shop, his hands overflowing with sheaves of crinkled loose-leaf paper. He drops them on the counter-top and scrambles to put them in order, though his efforts are slightly hindered by Taemin landing in that exact spot to paw his way through the mess.

“Goddamit, Taemin, this isn’t the time to antagonize me – ”

“Um, Key?” Jonghyun meekly speaks up. “What’s all this – ”

“My grandmother’s notes on her recipes. She unfortunately never kept a filing system. Or at least, one that I’m aware of…” Key frowns as he inspects a stain on one of the papers. “She also unfortunately never said no to a cup of hydrangea tea while on the job.”

“Maybe you could try calling her for help?”

Key grimaces. “She passed away last autumn. My abilities don’t extend as far as shamanism.”

Jonghyun’s mood falls again. “Sorry about that.”

“You’re not the one who should be apologizing right now. Just focus on keeping calm.” Key raises his head and eyes him through his messy blond fringe. “How’re you feeling so far?”

“Aside from what I told you? Not much. Just confused, I guess? Concerned? Nervous? Worried? The anxiety’s really kicking in at this point…” Jonghyun attempts a laugh, but the deepening frown on Key’s face halts it.

“What’s really happening, Key? Is it… bad?”

“You’re puking rose petals. It’s not looking good.”

“So there’s…” It’s a strange, terrifying image to wrap his imagination around. “There’s a _plant_ growing inside me?”

Key’s stare doesn’t waver when he answers: “Yes.”

Jonghyun laughs. Maybe it’s a reaction Key expected since he just goes back to rifling through the notes as Jonghyun shakes weakly from giggling, much to Taemin’s consternation.

“I have roses growing inside me.” Jonghyun tells the cat, while its owner – or partner? – scrambles and squints through patches of tea-stained handwriting. “Is this a dream? I wouldn’t mind if it is, if this is as bad as it gets.”

Taemin’s eyes close as he shakes his head.

“Jonghyun.”

He follows Key’s voice, from the stern expression on his face to the bony index finger jabbing at a particular heading at the top of a mass of sharp black scribbles.

“Is that kanji? I’m afraid I can’t read Japanese, Key.”

“I can. They call it ‘Hanahaki’.”

* * *

_October 21_

_“Are you in love with someone, Jonghyun?”_

No matter how hard he tries to push away Key’s question by pacing around his apartment, it doesn’t lessen the weight it carries.

_“The love potion I sold you must have triggered it. The notes say that the flowers are a symbol – or symptom – of unprofessed love.”_

For what must be the thousandth time today, he places a hand to the place on his chest beneath which the disease has taken root.

_“They also say that the cure lies in confessing that love and receiving it from the loved one.” _

Kibum had also promised he would start on an alternative cure, preferably an antidote that didn’t require Jonghyun to confess to his neighbor while spewing flowers all over his living-room floor. But as Jonghyun stirs the muddy brown mix of powdered marshmallow root, thistle leaves and Jinki’s mother’s love, he knows that it might be a matter of time before he’d have to step out of his daydreams and into that uncertain possibility.

He closes his eyes, takes a sip and hopes that courage is an included side-effect.

* * *

_October 22_

Jonghyun had once heard that one never ran into the same person twice in Seoul. Yet here he was, musing on his written thoughts while mentally calculating the chances of having encountered creepy smiling black cats and their strange owners. The past two days lingered in the back of his mind like a lucid dream he’d suddenly awoken from before he could get to the end.

It was now a sunny afternoon in autumn and his thoughts were too full of Jinki for him to feel particularly upset about that odd occurrence. It still beat the reality of having a bouquet ready to explode from his chest.

His phone lights up. He’d welcome the distraction, except that it’s a message from Jinki: _‘hey :)’_

Jonghyun immediately responds with another _‘hey’_ without thinking.

_‘wanna meet up @ universe later?’_

_‘sure’_ is how Jonghyun responds again. Also without thinking. He doesn’t dare change his mind after Jinki sends him a sticker of a bulging-eyed pug grinning thankfully.

_‘i take it that it’s a special occasion?’_

_‘not really ^^_

_‘just have something to tell you’_

Jonghyun pushes the phone away. Something terrible has crossed his mind and no amount of venting into his notebook is going get it out.

_Changsun’s back_, he keeps thinking and the rest just winds its way around his fears. Maybe Jinki’s ex wants him back and he’ll be moving in next door again so that they can return to being happy together like before. And if it really _really_ would make Jinki happiest, Jonghyun can be happy for him too, even at the cost of his own hopes, but –

The cough rears in full force. This time, Jonghyun has a wad of tissues ready.

After he drags it away from his mouth, he stares blankly at the sticky mass of scarlet petals plastered to the white wrinkled sheet and wishes he could go back to that harmless time in summer with Jinki’s laughter in his car. He’ll allow himself that one piece of selfishness before he gets up to wash and change to meet his friend. Just a friend, he keeps repeating. Might as well make a mantra out it.

Even the weather outside seems to mock him. The sun is out and proud, as if the dread building in his chest was the cause of its delight. Jonghyun can barely nod when Kyungsoo waves at him in greeting from the pumpkin patch on his way out of the block.

He’d hate Jinki, if only he could. The one person who made him think of summer in the city and smile. The man whom he waited around for after work and looked forward to buying lunch for like a schoolboy with a crush. The reason why the recurring ache that surged inside his chest was somehow worth it.

_What if it’s not Changsun_, he ponders anxiously as he keys the ignition. _What if it is, _he worries as he checks the mirrors. _What if it’s not_, he agonizes as he reverses from the parking space. It’s as stupid as plucking petals off a daisy in that embarrassing loves-me-love-me-not kind of way, sacred only to moonstruck teenage girls. Definitely not for grown men, not for Jonghyun.

Three times on the way to the café, he has to pull off the main road to ride out a body-quaking hack of a cough. The loves-me-loves-me-not bullshit gets splattered all over the seats and in-between them, around the gear-stick, red and white flurries of petals alike.

By the time he makes it to _Universe_, he feels like he’s surfed head-first through a multitude of flowered hedges and swallowed a mouthful of their finest blooms, thorns and all. At least he smells pretty.

As soon as he steps through the front door, he’s greeted by Junmyeon. Which is fine, because Jonghyun thinks Junmyeon is just about fine, but he didn’t cough up an entire orchard to get here and not be able to see the reason for his suffering at first glance.

“He’s over there, hyung.”

And there Jinki is, fiddling with his phone over a large steaming mug topped with whipped cream and a honey-colored drizzle. Jonghyun can’t think of anything else to say as he takes in the sight: Jinki with his eyes focused on the screen, Jinki with his eyebrows furrowed as he thumbs through filters, Jinki with a little smidgeon of cream just about his full, lush upper lip, Jinki who was right where he said he’d be.

The unexpected, unwelcome cough is what finally distracts Jinki, much to Jonghyun’s dismay. He’d made for a quality picture in his unassuming state.

Then Jinki smiles and Jonghyun corrects himself. This makes for an even better view.

“Hi, Jjong!”

A rush of something warm and nice hits Jonghyun in the perfect spot inside him when he hears that. It’s the first time Jinki’s called him that.

“Hey,” He manages, as he takes the seat across from him. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Looks like you’ve been enjoying yourself without me.”

Jinki appears confused, until he catches Jonghyun’s eyes and knowing smile as they settle on the drink in front of him. The blush reappears; he’s a gift that keeps on giving. Jonghyun sighs inwardly.

“Oh, this. Yeah, um, it’s, uh, kinda on the house…”

“Woah, really? Junmyeon must have a crush.”

The blush deepens. Jonghyun doesn’t know if he should suppress the urge to hug or to pinch as Jinki splutters, “It’s not like that!”

“Guess who landed a promotion at work?” comes the shout from near the espresso machine. Jonghyun’s eyes widen as they turn back to Jinki.

“Jinki, that’s great! All your hard work paid off.”

Unused to handling praise of any kind, all Jinki does is chuckle bashfully, muttering a quiet “Yeah” that’s almost lost beneath the late afternoon bustle. If Jonghyun could – if he had a right to – he’d reach out across the table and take Jinki’s hand in his, squeeze it for reassurance. But…

But…

“I’m really happy for you.” Jonghyun settles for something safer. “You did well.”

“Thanks.”

“Bet your parents are gonna be thrilled.”

Jinki tugs the edge of his collar in a sheepish gesture. “I actually, uh, forgot to tell them…”

“Wait, so that means…” The realization makes Jonghyun feel warm and fuzzy and tingly and conscious and a million other little things. “I’m the first?”

“Well, yeah, aside from my boss. So…”

Jinki’s eyes drift away, which Jonghyun takes as a sign of one of many things. One, Jinki realizes his failing as a filial son. Two, he’s thinking of telling Changsun. Three, he’s wondering if he should’ve told Changsun first, instead of Jonghyun. Four, he really wishes he should’ve told Changsun instead. Five –

Jonghyun clamps a hand over his mouth as the next coughing fit starts.

Of course, Jinki immediately ends up on his side, patting his back as he looks concerned. “You’re still sick? Shit, I shouldn’t have made you come all the here…”

Jonghyun tries to tell him that he would’ve driven to the other side of the country if Jinki so much as even dropped the word, but that just makes the situation worse. He can feel the wet flutter of each petal as it lands inside the hollow of his fist, their secret hot on his palm.

Soon, Junmyeon’s face joins Jinki’s hovering around him. “Is hyung sick?”

Jonghyun hears Jinki answer for him. “He’s been like this for the last few days, I think.”

He feels worse now. He doesn’t need Jinki stepping in like a hero for him, not when he knows it’s not much he’s offered in return, except a ready shoulder to cry on.

“That sounds bad.” It’s Junmyeon again. “Have you taken anything for it?”

“J-Just some herbal stuff…” Jonghyun stammers out.

This has the effect of making Junmyeon fold his arms, then cup his chin in his palm in deep thought. His eyes light up when he seems to hit on an idea.

“Sehun, get started on the brew!”

Sehun, milk frother in one hand and mug of coffee in another, looks up warily from behind the counter. “You sure about that?”

“Of course. Since it’s experimental and off the menu, we won’t charge for it either.”

“Experimental?” Jinki pipes up.

“Just something I’ve been working on in my free time. Just, uh, keep this between ourselves, won’t you? The big boss doesn’t really appreciate creativity that way…”

* * *

_October 23_

“It turned out it was actually called ‘The Brew’.” Jonghyun’s stomach turns as he recalls the mossy green concoction that had been served apologetically by Sehun in a round blue tea-cup left over from the last café rebranding. “No wonder it was free. I wouldn’t feed that stuff to a dying animal.”

Key just nods as he calmly pounds away with his pestle and mortar on the counter.

“Please tell me you’ve come up with an antidote.” Jonghyun pleads.

Key stops, leaves the pestle to stand in the mortar bowl and pushes them aside, clearing his throat. “I did find one, actually.”

“Really? That’s _great_! What do – ” Jonghyun’s hopes crash as he takes in the look on the Key’s face. “Oh fuck no. Hold on, what’s the catch?”

“It removes the disease as well as the cause.”

“You mean…”

The entirety of what’s unsaid sinks in. He looks down at his hands, on which a few petals are still scattered. “I won’t have feelings for him anymore?”

Key nods again. “You’d still feel a few things for him, but nothing beyond platonic. You’ll go back to being friends and nothing more.”

Just friends. Just neighbors. In short, nothing would ever change and Jonghyun could give up for good.

“How do you feel about that?”

There’s not a word Jonghyun knows that can sum up the misery that courses through him at the thought of it.

“I can’t imagine it.” He answers truthfully.

“I guessed as much. I had Taemin follow you around yesterday – ”

“What?!” Jonghyun rummages through his memory for any passing image of the cat. “Okay, _how_ and _where_ – “

“Just so you know, Taemin has more than one form, though he prefers the feline ones most of the time. Birds are also convenient. Never insects, for some reason…”

“Was he… did he manage to track me all the way to – “

“Yes, he did. Says you’re a goner, judging by the way you look at him.”

Jonghyun groans, leans on the counter and lets his head fall into his waiting hands. “It’s that obvious?”

“Let’s just say that he must be as blind as you are to not notice as much.”

* * *

_October 24_

He tries to hold on to the dream as it fades after he wakes up in the morning. If he closes his eyes and goes back to sleep now, he might even find out what comes next.

What comes next after he manages to grab hold of Jinki’s hand.

What comes next after he turns around and looks at him without surprise.

What comes next after he’s pulled closer.

What comes next after his heart bursts into bloom, red petals spilling forth into the space between them as it closes.

What comes next, after the daylight wakes him up again, and he has to look up at nothing but the ceiling again.

* * *

_October 25_

Jonghyun finds that he’s missed Minho after all these days, so he decides to drop by his place just to make sure his friend’s doing at least better than him. He doesn’t have anything to offer him except for the same thing he gives anyone else he loves: time. Fortunately, with Minho just a few floors above him, he won’t have to waste much of it traveling.

After the lift opens with a chime and Jonghyun steps out into the hallway of the seventh floor, he’s taken aback when he sees the tall, familiar figure walking towards him from the direction of Minho’s flat.

“Changmin?” Jonghyun starts, then gathers himself again and begins more respectfully. “Sorry, I meant Changmin hyung. It’s, um, nice to see you?”

Changmin takes it with a smile. “Haven’t been much of a good hyung, if you’re that surprised to see me. But it’s nice to see you too, Jonghyun-ah.”

“I was just going to see…”

“Minho? Yeah, I just did.” Changmin looks behind them, at a particular door with a soccer-themed welcome sign, fondness evident in his features. “Hope he’s okay now. He’s kinda… going through it.”

“To be honest, I’m just glad he’s spending time at home instead of making one at the gym.”

“Uh, that might be my fault too. I ran into him there about two days ago and tried to say ‘hello’, but he just took off in the opposite direction. I didn’t see him afterwards, so I got worried and decided to drop by.”

“It’s still that bad?” Jonghyun peers warily at the door.

“Like I said, I hope he’s okay now. We had a talk.”

“Oh?” It seems like a good time to just carry on and not press any further. “I’m sure that must have helped, hyung. He listens to you better than me, anyway.”

“Yeah, I guess. He and Minseok have always been my favorites.” Changmin spares another glance at the door, before making a move towards the lift. “Anyway, just make sure he takes care of himself, Jonghyun-ah.”

Jonghyun nods and waves as the lift slides open to let Changmin inside. After they close, he approaches Minho’s door, presses the bell and braces himself.

A series of scrabbling noises pass before the door opens and Jonghyun is engulfed by the smell of cinnamon.

“You hungry, hyung?” Minho beams, a tad too fiercely for Jonghyun’s comfort.

“Minho, it’s not yet Halloween, so don’t try to spring a heart-attack on me with one of your surprises.” Jonghyun tries not to make his tiptoeing too evident as he sneaks a peek over Minho’s shoulder. “What coping mechanism have you adopted now?”

“Says the person who wrote an entire novel when they had to leave their dog at the kennel.”

“It was two weeks before I could see Roo again! Skyping her wasn’t cutting it.” Jonghyun huffs as he pushes his way past Minho, into the living-room. It looks suspiciously the same: all the furniture in place, Minho’s various trophies and certificates in their designated cabinet, the collection of soccer player bobble-heads untouched on the corner table.

He takes a whiff of the air in the room. “Why does it smell like a bakery exploded in here?”

“For your information, I’m just trying to do my part as a responsible member of the Residents’ Committee. It is _not_ a coping mechanism.” Minho continues to rattle on, as he heads into the kitchen. “Yoona’s down with the flu, so Sooyoung asked me to help with the baking for this year’s Halloween Festa.”

Jonghyun follows Minho to the kitchen, where bags of flour and cardboard egg-holders are scattered over the counters, and a brand-new mixer sits in the midst of the mess, its previously spotless chrome surfaces now dusted with icing sugar and smudged with batter. A red tomato-shaped timer goes off, which seems to be the signal for Minho to let out a frustrated sigh and slip on a pair of mitts to open the over door.

“Asked you to help, or made you help?” Jonghyun asks as Minho takes out a rectangular pan filled with something that’s a lovely-looking shade of golden-brown and, admittedly, smells heavenly. And as he spies four more pans on the round kitchen table, he adds: “And did she ask you to feed an entire country, while you’re at it?”

Minho fixes him with a long, hard stare. “I was practicing.”

“This isn’t soccer try-outs, Minho. It’s just going to be a couple of tables and chairs down in the garden, full of the same stuff as last year which everyone’s going to complain about going off their diets for, but it’s not like they’re not going to stuff themselves regardless. They’re also going to have the same pumpkin-carving competition which you’re going to enter and lose to Seulgi again, and someone’s going to sneak in some beer again which is going to result in getting someone else drunk and dancing on one of the tables again. No big deal.”

Jonghyun can’t blame Minho for looking so confused. Minho always takes everything seriously; it’s a wonder that he puts up with Jonghyun’s own melodrama. He owes it to him to help him keep things lighter.

“I saw Changmin hyung out earlier. He seemed to imply that you’ve been avoiding the gym because of him.”

Minho looks away, focusing on trying to flip the contents of the pan onto a waiting wire-frame rack to cool down. “It… I…”

He smacks the bottom of the pan. “Fight or flight instinct.”

“Seriously, Minho? And stop doing that, you’ll just damage the pan.” Jonghyun wrenches it from Minho’s grasp and holds it up for closer inspection. “Didn’t you grease them before pouring the mixture in?”

A light seems to go out in Minho’s head and Jonghyun knows he’s got him.

“I forgot to fucking crease the pans. Oh _fuck_…”

“We all forget things. Even you, Minho. Now come sit down and tell me what Changmin hyung told you.”

As expected, Minho doesn’t obey instantly. He keeps glancing at the other pans on the table, worrying. “But now I need to fix – ”

“_We’ll_ fix it later. You need a break _now._”

Jonghyun doesn’t prod Minho any further when they settle on his living-room couch. Without the comfort of physical activity to distract him, Minho will let his thoughts out on his own accord. Until then, Jonghyun pulls up the notes stored on his phone and swipes through them to pass the time. He pauses on one in particular – ‘monodrama’ – and swipes it away almost immediately.

“Changmin hyung just wanted to check up on me. I guess he thought the thing at the gym was his fault. I told him it wasn’t. Then he asked why I took off and I told him I didn’t know. I just did.”

Jonghyun’s not going to say anything. Minho needs this moment for himself.

“He apologized again. I said he didn’t have to and he said he needed to if I still felt bad after… you know, that night. I didn’t know what else to say after that. I mean, I would’ve said that I was feeling better but that’s a lie. And he would’ve known.

“He didn’t press me about it. Just asked me about work, what else I’d been up to. How my parents and Minseok were doing. But it eventually came back to _that _and we had to talk about it. I told him I was trying to get over it. But it’s so… I swear it’s so hard, hyung. You can’t just get over someone you’ve liked for the last few _years_.

“It was so weird, hyung. I felt bad and annoyed with myself and just… so pathetic. I hated it. I hated that Changmin hyung had to see that.”

Jonghyun reaches up to Minho’s shoulder and squeezes it, silently telling him that he’s being anything but pathetic. He knows the feeling. At least Minho had the guts to lay out his vulnerabilities like this.

Minho takes a deep breath before saying: “He said that it was okay to feel like that. That it was normal and he’d gone through the same shit too when he was in college. He said it would get easier and I said I found that hard to believe.

“Then he hugged me. That felt a lot better.”

This time, Jonghyun extends his arm around Minho’s shoulder. “He’s right, you know. You did nothing wrong. That’s just how it turns out sometimes.”

“Well, I know that now.”

Jonghyun knows better than to dwell on it any further. “Anyway, you’re coming home with me tonight. We can just cuddle and not make out while tonight’s horror movie marathon plays on in the background.”

Minho’s smile is smaller and softer than the one he’d greeted him at the doorway with, which is how Jonghyun knows it’s real. “Not until after you help me clean up the kitchen.”

“Did I mention that Seulgi is totally going _down_ in this year’s pumpkin carving competition?”

“Nice try, hyung. Now go grab a scrubber.”

* * *

_October 26_

Jinki’s company throws him a party at a samgyeopsal restaurant to celebrate his promotion and he’s allowed to take a plus-one.

“As long as I don’t have to drink my weight in soju.” Jonghyun warns as they step inside after parking the car across the street.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let them lay a hand on you.” Jinki assures him, with his own hand warm on Jonghyun’s back as he guides him to the two large tables reserved for the team. “I’m just really glad you’re with me. Company dinners have never been my thing.”

They aren’t exactly Jonghyun’s thing either. Large gatherings never were, unless he had his sister or a friend to latch onto. But for Jinki, he already knows he’ll do anything.

He makes good on his own promise to not drink, his health being in such frail state as it is without the prospect of alcohol mixing in with a mythical illness. Watching Jinki try and fail to receive praise from his colleagues all night long without blushing and stammering out his thanks makes Jonghyun feel better. There’s a certain light about pretty words, true or not, that shines clear long after people say them. Jonghyun hopes that every good thing said to Jinki tonight stays with him long afterwards. It’s the least he deserves.

“My head feels funny.” Jinki giggles when Jonghyun drives him home, his face flushed through with the multiple shots of soju poured out for him. It’s late enough that the streetlights and billboards are aglow, but the streets are gradually emptying of people, which lends a sweet sense of desolation to their surroundings as they drive past them. It’s exactly a type of night that sets inspiration running though Jonghyun’s blood. Much more potent and dangerous than alcohol.

The radio’s switched off for a change. It’s now Jinki who’s doing most of the talking.

“Sometimes, I feel like getting a pet. Just sometimes. Just so that my place feels less empty. Whenever I asked my parents for one when I was a kid, they’d always go ‘So so’. So that meant ‘no’.”

“You can get one now.” Jonghyun replies.

“Ohh, I so badly wanna.” The way Jinki drawls through the entire sentence sends Jonghyun into a fit of laughter. “What? I’m tempted. Roo’s so lucky to have you.”

“Lee Jinki, are you jealous of my dog? You have some nerve, considering my chauffeur and escort services are reserved exclusively for you these days.”

“Hmm, yeah, no one else will do.”

The laughter in Jonghyun’s throat tapers off a little, allowing for some wariness to creep in as he tries not to dig too deep beneath Jinki’s words. After all, he’s the farthest thing from sober right now.

“We get along so well, Jonghyunnie. I’m so happy I met you.” Jinki’s grinning sleepily, his eyes closing. “I’m so happy you’re my neighbor. And Roo too.”

The lump rises in Jonghyun’s throat and stays there for the rest of the drive home. After he pulls into the parking lot, he looks across at the passenger seat to find Jinki asleep.

Jinki’s head is slumped on his shoulder, which rests close to the window. His clothes smell faintly like woodchip smoke and his hands are loose on his lap, unclenched and palms open on his jeans. Jonghyun isn’t stupid; he’s just going to take one of them in his own hand because he’s crazy like that, just desperate enough.

“Jinki-yah,” He calls out as an excuse, while he squeezes gently. “We’re home now.”

Jinki’s eyes flutter open. He smiles, sloppy and real enough to make Jonghyun’s heart skip a beat. And his hand unfolds itself inside Jonghyun’s.

Even though Jinki assures him that he can make it to his apartment by himself, Jonghyun still offers his shoulder and arm for him to lean on while they make their way upstairs. Jinki feels nice and solid against him; it’s tough for Jonghyun to take lightly.

“Sleep well.” He tells Jinki as he prepares to take his leave after making sure Jinki has his apartment key pushing in the right lock. “I’ll see you later.”

“I want to see you too, Jonghyun. Thank you.”

Jonghyun waits until he’s safely indoors before running to his bathroom, making it just in time to spew a seemingly endless stream of rose petals into the sink. It takes nearly everything out of him, except the one thing that matters. Even after he slumps to the floor, after his trembling knees give out, it’s still heavy on his chest.

When he finally does gather himself together and gets to cleaning up the mess, the words are there in full bloom in his head. If he ever tries to speak them into existence, he’ll choke.

So afterwards, when the floor and sink in the bathroom gleam white again, he heads to his bedroom, but not the bed, pulls out the app on his phone which contains ‘monodrama’ and lets the words flow with the tears in his eyes.

* * *

_October 27_

The doorbell’s ringing.

It’s only habitual instinct that makes Jonghyun get up and go to answer it. It had been a terrible night and all he has to show for the day ahead are the words to a song he’ll never sing.

“Hello.” It’s Key, an unsettlingly calm presence on his doormat. “You look like shit.”

“How the hell did you find out where I live?”

“Taemin again. He can be useful at times, when he’s not cozying up to the neighborhood pretty boys. Which he’s doing right now in that garden of yours as we speak.” Key peers at him closely. “Rough night?”

“That’s too mild a term.”

“I won’t take long then.” He reaches into the satchel hanging by his side and pulls out a round glass flask filled with transparent liquid. “Here it is. Your antidote.”

Jonghyun feels nothing but numb as he takes it from Key.

“You need to take it in three doses, preferably with three hours in-between each one.”

“Why three?”

Key shrugs. “I guess there’s some truth behind that fairy tale cliché. The power of three. Although magic does play favorably towards odd numbers in general.”

Jonghyun can only laugh bitterly. “So that’s what it comes down to? Magic?”

“It’s a broad term. My grandmother never used that word. She said it was too ‘trite’ to describe something which occurred so naturally.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

Jonghyun takes a look at Key; a really thorough one that goes from the dark circles under his eyes to the healing blisters on his fingertips, which he quickly hides in the crook of his elbows when he crosses his arms.

“D’you want to come inside, Key? Just rest for a while. I’m sure this antidote put you through a lot of trouble to make. I could make you something that’s nice and boring instead, minus the side-effects.”

It’s a miracle; Key’s smiling.

“Thanks, but no thanks. Giving you this is the least I can do after selling you that potion.”

“I was stupid enough to drink it, remember?”

“That you were, but we all have our flaws.”

“Do you?”

“That’s another thing I’m trying to figure out.”

Jonghyun’s exhausted, but he laughs hard enough to bring tears of a different kind to his eyes. “You’re amazing, Key. Thank you.”

“It’s Kibum.”

“Wha – “

“Who’d name their kid ‘Key’ anyway. That one was my fault entirely. It’s ‘Kibum’ to friends.”

Despite everything, Jonghyun’s heart feels lighter.

“Thank you, Kibummie.”

* * *

_October 28_

It’s only today that Jonghyun notices that he’s made a terrible mistake.

He’d meant to send the _monodrama_ draft to his mother and let it rest in her safe hands, knowing that it would serve her as another fond reminder of her son and his dumb worries which would blow over the by the time he visited her. It would never see the light of day. It wasn’t meant to.

Maybe it was because of the lack of sleep. Maybe it was just pure carelessness. Maybe it was his sheer dumb luck.

He’d thumbed the wrong name on his contact list and sent it to _Lee Jinki_.

* * *

_October 29_

The dread is taking its toll on him. Even with his throat on fire, he still volunteers to help with the pumpkin carving decorations for the Halloween Festa and tries to distract himself by eavesdropping on Minho and Sooyoung’s argument as they slit eyes and mouths into pumpkin shells, the orange flesh already scooped out to fill the many pumpkin pies baking in Yoona’s oven.

“I’m telling you, noona, you just can’t go inviting random strangers to our events.”

“For the last time, Minho, Kibum-ssi isn’t a random stranger. He was visiting our Jonghyun, right?” She turns to Jonghyun for confirmation and is pleased with the weak nod he gives. “See? He’s a visitor, so that makes him part of the neighborhood by extension.”

“He’s never even hung out here before, noona! His cat’s been here more than he has.” Minho glares in a certain direction, in which Kyungsoo, Chanyeol and Jongin rake leaves off the area to be cleared for the tables. Winding its way in and out between Jongin’s ankles is a very content black cat whose name only Jonghyun knows.

“I think he likes me.” Jongin calls out. Taemin seems to agree as he purrs while rubbing his head against Jongin’s shin.

This, of course, does nothing to quell Minho’s annoyance. “It’s just not fair. There were already enough participants for the pumpkin carving competition.”

“No, there wasn’t.” Sooyoung counters.

“Why’re you so upset that he called your design ‘cute’, hyung?”

“Nobody asked for your opinion, Chanyeol! And it was the way he looked at it before saying that.” Minho’s knife slips and accidentally takes out his pumpkin’s eye. “Okay, one more wisecrack from any of you guys and I’ll – ”

Amidst Minho’s rants, Sooyoung’s attempts at speaking over him and the sniggers from the other three, Jonghyun spies the object of his worries from the corner of his eye.

Jinki seems lost in his thoughts as he passes the garden without as much as a glance at any of the happenings taking place. After he makes his way inside and gets into the lift, Jonghyun makes up his mind.

“Give me a few minutes. I’ll be back soon.” He leaves his own pumpkin abandoned on the grass while Minho gets up to loudly declare his intentions to take home the first-place prize for his pumpkin and it’s sure as hell not going to be ‘cute’.

Jonghyun’s heart pounds away as the lift takes him to his and Jinki’s floor. After the doors ping open, he takes a deep breath and heads out.

Once he rings Jinki’s doorbell, he realizes that it’s the first time he’s done this. It’s always been Jinki who’s called on him, not the other way around.

He’s terrified out of his wits.

“Hey.” Jinki’s greeting sounds normal enough. “What’s up?”

Jonghyun opens his mouth to speak and ends up choking on a spurt of petals.

He hears Jinki’s shocked gasp, feels his arms around him as he pulls him inside. The coughing takes so much out of him and there’s no way to stop. But even with Kibum’s antidote stored safely in his kitchen, there’s no way out of this. He has to pull through.

“Jonghyun, we need to get you to a hospital.” Jinki anxiously says, even as his floor and Jonghyun’s shirt are covered in red petals.

“I don’t need a hospital, Jinki.”

“Then?”

“I want to talk to you. Any other time, even if not now. Even if you have nothing to say.” None of this comes out as right as it had been in his head, but Jonghyun knows he needs this. “I just want you. To be with you.”

The petals fall out of his mouth as his lips utter the words.

“I’ve liked you so much, from the day we met, and I like you even more now. I’m sorry I sent you that song. I didn’t mean to.”

The tears have started. He should’ve known that it would end this way.

“I love you, I’m sorry. I’m so so – ”

He’s faintly aware of how he holds onto Jinki and Jinki holds onto him and how his feet feel rooted to the floor and how his lungs seem to burst as the roses bloom into completion all because Jinki kisses him, over and over.

* * *

_October 30_

“I guess I should’ve told you earlier, Jonghyun-ah.

“I liked you too. I thought it was because we got on so well after I moved in here. In that kindred spirits kind of way? I thought that was it. And then after Changsun… I guess it wasn’t anymore.”

They’re sitting on the bench in the garden as the sun sets. All the leaves have been cleared off the grass and a coven of sharp-toothed jack-o’-lanterns grin welcomingly at any visitors who dare cross their path. Jinki feels warm next to Jonghyun and his hand more so as it curls into Jonghyun’s.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? All this time, you’ve been right next to me and I still couldn’t tell you what’s been on my mind. And then you did it through _monodrama_.”

“That makes two of us.” Jonghyun murmurs, his head resting on Jinki’s shoulder. “That’s one more thing we have in common. Next to bad jokes and timing.”

“I wouldn’t say our first kiss was bad timing.”

There’s a note of mischief in Jinki’s voice that Jonghyun thinks he could really get used to hearing. “Oh, I’m sure it could have been better.”

“Practice makes perfect?”

Jonghyun thinks about it: his lungs have been clear for the first time in weeks – Kibum says it’s a good sign. He and Jinki have decided to take things slow, one step at a time. There’s no need to rush into anything or any labels.

He looks up at Jinki. “My place tonight?”

The smile that slowly stretches across Jinki’s face is the answer to everything.

* * *

_October 31_

“It’s not a date!” Minho stresses as he slams the iron onto his shirt collar. “I’m just sussing out the competition.” 

Jonghyun takes in the clean pressed trousers laid over Minho’s desk-chair and the blue button-up shirt spread over the iron. “That’s a lot of effort to put in for your not-date.”

“Haven’t you seen how the guy dresses? There’s no way I’m going to be shown up by him.”

“Kibum’s not as shallow as you think he is. He’s the one who invited you for pre-pumpkin competition drinks, remember?”

“That’s because you suggested it.” Minho rolls his eyes as Jonghyun tries to slink off into a corner. “Oh yeah, he made sure to mention that.”

“And both of you are still going through with it?”

“I never back out from a challenge. Anyway, where are you off to?”

Jonghyun tells him that he’s off to pick up Jinki. As he heads downstairs to his car, he looks around at the surrounding night. He’s written songs about times like this. Sad songs about loneliness and fleeting glimpses of beauty. He still remembers those times: both the hours spent writing them and what had inspired them.

Of all the lights that he passes on his way to Jinki’s workplace, he thinks of the one that keeps him warm inside.

Jinki’s already outside waiting for him. He beams as Jonghyun pulls up closer.

They’re heading back to their apartment block for the Festa. They’ll stuff themselves with pie, cake and cookies, and then laugh and take cover when Minho and Kibum go down to Seulgi in the pumpkin carving. By the time the alcohol starts flowing, they’ll be long gone down to the Han river banks where they’ll walk for a while. Jonghyun thinks he’ll be the one initiating the kisses on the way.

But for now, Jinki slides into his car, his voice slightly breathless as he tells him to turn off the radio. He’s got loads to tell him about his day and Jonghyun has all night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the @summerofshinee mods for the prompt and for their hard work. Shout-out to my beta @strawberry19 for their kind words on the first draft.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this. Feedback is welcome.
> 
> Also, the [fic playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/48kkv3RLs0m3X5bMAuV2xj). And a [non-magical love potion recipe](https://orriculum.tumblr.com/post/146517895798/amortentia-tea) which inspired the one in the fic.


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